


i would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit

by kd_ntjb



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F, Food Porn, PWP without the actual porn (I know. What a pointless fic.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kd_ntjb/pseuds/kd_ntjb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aubrey eats a pomegranate. Chloe gets distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to **escape** (aka escape-fic on tumblr) for the title, which is a reference to a George Moore poem.
> 
> I don't own anything.

Aubrey had been on a health kick as long as she’d been in existence. Despite Chloe’s best attempts to load their shared kitchen with piles of junk for their lower days, Aubrey maintained a deep and ingrained intolerance for processed, chemical-laden foods and adamantly refused to touch the stuff. Thanks to years of a strict upbringing that made her feel guilty about developing chemical dependancies on caffeine and, thus, a reluctance to partake in coffee, Aubrey’s dietary preference reached a whole new level of finicky. Chloe no longer attempted to question it. 

Aubrey snacked on fruit and vegetables and, in her weaker moments, baked beans straight cold out of the can. Her favourite snack, though, was pomegranates. 

Aubrey enthusiastically devoured them in front of the television in a blank haze, much akin to the way another, normal person would absent-mindedly feast on popcorn in a movie theatre. The habit was one of the many studies in absurd contrast that made Aubrey Aubrey. The sight of Aubrey, in a threadbare white T-shirt and sweats, slouched in front of a dreary history documentary should not have been so stirringly poignant or seductive but to Chloe it just was.

Aubrey was notoriously particularly about cleanliness and order but she made an exception for pomegranates. If anything, it seemed like she loved the messiness of eating them. Chloe had seen the neat, efficient way of eating them, sure. Aubrey hated the pre-packaged seeds, all neatly removed from the flesh already, for the same reason she hated pre-cut fruit in vacuum-sealed packs: something about freshness and oxidisation. But even though she’d show Chloe the easier way of eating a pomegranate was to whack out all the seeds with a spoon, she always ate the fruit with her fingers, spilling beads of red-pink juice everywhere.

There was a grace in it that Chloe always felt a little bad about debauching with her thoughts. It was inherent in everything Aubrey did with her hands. God, they were nice hands. Long fingers, slender wrists, a collection of line and curves and everything that moved like moonlight.

Aubrey would dig her thumbs into the fruit’s pliant flesh, splitting it apart and letting the ruby jewels of the seeds burst as she did so. It was the one time she didn’t mind her clothes; she let beads of a pink and red splatter across her shirt like a Pollock painting in one of Carpaccio’s palettes. She carefully plucked each seat out and admired it between her fingers, rolling it around the play of her joints before pressing it against her lips.

Chloe always felt like a voyeur when she watched it. She didn’t particularly care anymore.

“Aubrey,” she said in a tone far more breathy than she’d intended.

Aubrey was shaken by the surprise and glanced up at her, away from the television. The lapse in concentration meant she dropped the piece of fruit she was holding back down into her bowl. It splayed gently across her hand, seeds splashing open as they struck the side.

Never one to waste anything, Aubrey noted the droplets of juice spattered across her finger and licked them clean from her hands, sucking them dry with an obscene thoroughness. Her fingers disappeared into her mouth. Her tongue swept over her fingers so that sticky marks of juice were invisible but her skin still wet with the pale sheen of spit like a reminder to Chloe of all the places Aubrey’s tongue could travel.

That was the last straw, really. Chloe couldn’t take it anymore. 

She strut over the couch where Aubrey was sitting and and leaned over her, effectively pinning her down in place. Aubrey frowned at the interruption to whatever it was she was watching on TV, but all that was just distant background noise to Chloe. Aubrey’s mouth was stained pink and all it did was highlight the full shape of her lips and how much Chloe wanted them pressed up against hers.

“What?” Aubrey said. There was a slight frown on her face, probably because of being separated from her precious food. Her hands, stained pink with the juice, stretched out to reach them, but as her fingers curled to try and reach the fruit Chloe pulled it away.

“Leave that alone,” Chloe said. “I’ve thought of something else for you to eat.”


End file.
